


McCree || Overwatch || GN!Reader

by WENDlGO



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Set back in the good ol' Blackwatch days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 06:13:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10691391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WENDlGO/pseuds/WENDlGO
Summary: You're a bartender. Jesse is a customer. You get close. That's it.





	McCree || Overwatch || GN!Reader

God, he was a fool. He should've stayed away when he first saw you. You shouldn't have been involved in this - with him. McCree pressed his back roughly against the wall as he heard his rival gang's hard boots walk across the concrete floor. He held his peace-keeper in his fist tightly as he clenched his teeth. If they lay a finger on you- No. He can't be thinking that.

When the noise died down he made a quick effort to stride across the room and into another dark area. This was only his second time in this base and he feared that he might not get to you as fast as he wanted. During his moments of small panics his mind kept thinking back to when he met you.

You were at a bar, a well-known one at that, and you worked behind the counter. You were a gorgeous thing in his eyes and he wanted you. You were a prize to behold and he wanted to show everyone what he was capable of gettijng when he went back to their hideout.

In the end, it didn't go as planned.

He tried to be the dominate towards you - trying to show you "who's boss" and you ended up punching him in the nose, blood spurting out the second your fist made contact with his face. He was dazed. You, a delicate lookin' thing that seemed to be the same age he was, almost broke his nose. If that wasn't enough to make him fall for you then he didn't know what would.

You didn't kick him out after he regained himself, much to his surprise, and instead offered him a hard drink. "Here," You said as you slid a shot glass towards him, "This ones on the house for not cryin'." Your voice was monotone, blank, yet your eyes held a fierce look. A look of a predator.

McCree gazed down at his drink, noting the blue-green tint it had, and made a motion to reach for it yet stopped when he realized how much blood was on his person. It was more than what he expected. He wiped his nose with the top of his hand and saw how much red covered his hand. Damn. You really knew how to swing. He looked up towards you and saw you raising an eyebrow in return. You half-expected him to try and play off how stained he was but shook your head in amusement when he pointed a finger at the towel that rested on your shoulder.

You tossed it to him, seeing it as the polite thing to do, and grimaced at how quick the white cloth was to soak up into a dark red. At least he got most of it off, you thought.

He made a move to give it back and you were quick to decline. "Keep it." Was all you said before gesturing to the drink you offered to him, "Drink up, cowboy."

Oh, lord, the way you said that...it was music to his ears. It was enough to force him to repress a shiver going up his spin. He could feel his cheeks warm up and was thankful that some dried blood still stained him. He didn't need you knowing how you got under his skin by a simple phrase.

He reached for the drink, placed his first two fingers and thumb on the body of the glass, and quickly brought it up to his lips. He tilted his head back as he swallowed the burning liquid in one swig. He slammed the cup down, somehow not breaking it, as his face scrunched up. It wasn't disgusting, no, it was just-

"Too strong?" Your lightly teasing voice echoed through his ears. He turned to face you as he tried to relax his face. He opened his mouth to speak but found his voice betraying him. You locked eyes with him, looking at him with such a daring look behind your eyelashes, and continued, "It's a secret recipe. We call it the 'Spectrum Bomb'. It's the most expensive thing on the menu." You took the shot glass back and put it under the counter, noting to clean it later, and showed him a rare smirk, "I'm surprised. Not many people are able to handle it."

With the news settling in McCree couldn't help but smirk back at you, his posture straightening to look confident, "I can hold my liquor better than anyone I know, partner." He spoke highly. You let out a silent laugh.

"Well, partner," You mocked his southern drawl on the second word, "You should come back sometime to try our other drinks. I might even make one after you." You wiped your hands on your shirt as you looked around for the towel you had, but stopped when you remembered what happened to it. Great, now you have to go find another.

McCree perked up at this and sent you a grin, looking genuinely happy, "Really, now? You'd do that for someone who made one of the worst first impressions?"

A snort left you as you grabbed another towel from beneath the counter, "You're not the first and I doubt you'll be the last." You looked him up and down, taking in his clothes and face, "And we'll see about the drink." You put the cloth on the counter and started wiping it down in circular motions, you voice softer than usual, "I think you should get outta here before your rivals show up." You cut him off before he could reply, "They'll outnumber you, trust me."

When he forced himself to leave he noticed you sending him a smile and nod, "Good luck out there, cowboy. Lord knows that you Deadlock members need it."

The days after that flew by in a flash and the cowboy found himself thinking of you so often that it felt like you've been with him his whole life. He knew what this meant. He knew what the fluttery and fuzzy feelings were and, god, he was so scared. His life was dangerous, his job was dangerous, and involving you in it means that you'd be in danger. He couldn't bare the thought of you getting hurt because of him but when you'd show only him how bright and soft you truly were he couldn't help but fall deeper into the hole he made for himself.

It was a month after you two met when he decided what he had to do.

He slowly stopped going to the bar and always insisted on going to tasks that others didn't want to do. He felt that if he took every job then he'd have a reason to avoid you.

His heart clenched at the word, his elbows on his knees with his face in his hands as he sat on his makeshift bed. Avoid. He was avoiding you. He was purposely trying to stay away from you. He was hurting you- Wait...was he hurting you? His mind wondered to how you were holding up. Did you miss him? Did you wonder where he went? Were you worried? What if you got over it quickly?

McCree looked up to the blank wall in front of him as conflicting thoughts clouded his mind.

To say he felt drained, numb, after he spent hours alone in his room would be correct. He didn't feel anything. He felt empty; a void. He felt as if someone ripped his heart out but without the pain. Was this love? Is this what he's supposed to feel? He closed his eyes and exhaled a long breath. He was startled upwards when someone roughly opened up his rooms door and searched around until their eyes landed on him.

"There you are, boy." They spoke, walking towards him and McCree felt himself relax. It was just one of the members. One that he actually trusts, mind you. The person never gave him their real name but they insisted on going by "Motor." Why? He never knew. He was never one to ask questions.

They didn't say anything more while they moved to stand in front of him. Their gaze looked down at him as if a mother was about to scold her child but they stayed quiet, of only for a moment. "The barkeeper. They have 'em."

It was a short sentence but it was enough to force McCree off his bed and out the door, his gun in hand. He spared no one an explanation as he made a mad dash for the enemies hideout. Deadlock was planning an attack soon, anyways, so who cares if he gets there earlier than told?

And that's how he ended up here. Maneuvering from one dark spot to another as he tried his best to find any hints of where you could be.

He was beyond angry. At both himself and this gang. If he had just been honest with you and told you everything then you wouldn't be in this mess. You'd understand, he knew you would, but he had continued to grip to that fear of you leaving.

His breath stilled as he heard your monotone voice coming from one of the rooms. He could hear two voices mumbling, one sounding threatening and one sounding unimpressed. Hearing your voice reassured him that you were holding up fine. That gave him hope.

As much as he wanted to burst into the room and kill the person interrogating you, he knew he couldn't. There were more than twenty people in this building and they could outnumber the both of you in an instant. Plus, his gun isn't really the silent type.

For once in his life he had to think this through. He needed an option for you to at least get out of here safe. Maybe he can sneak into the room, kill the guy, free you, then cause a distraction for you to get out safely? No, that won't work. He doesn't know if the member is facing away or towards the door. The fact that you might not know where an exist is either doesn't help.

While he wondered what his next move would be he jerked up at the sound of a pained yell. It sounded horrifying to him. It was you. You were getting hurt. You were-

He couldn't hold it in any longer when he kicked the door down, most likely alerting other members, and pointed his gun straight at his enemy. He wasted no time stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him with his foot, all while keeping his gaze and gun locked onto their target. He was too scared to see the damaged that had been done to you and kept one objective in his mind: Kill everyone for harming you.

The member was shocked for a moment, he didn't expect such a grand enterence, but let out a laugh at the cowboy's attempt to be intimidating. He reached down to your thigh and grabbed onto the hilt of his knife, enjoying the sound of your pained hissing when he forcefully pulled it out. "You with Deadlock, cowboy?" He taunted, "You don't look like you could hurt a fly."

McCree felt his jaw clench as he fought the urge to shoot then and there. "Lets leave the bartender outta this. They ain't do no wrong, nor do they know what's goin' on. Let 'em go," He stepped forward, "Then we'll talk."

The member looked down at your disarrayed form, a cruel smirk forming on his lips, as he used the tip of his knife to tilt your head backwards to look at him. "This little thing? Sorry to burst your bubble, kid, but they know everythin'." He turned your chair to face Jesse and only then did the cowboy notice how fucked up you were. Bruises littered your body, along with cuts, and you looked so exhausted yet, somehow, you still kept your monotone facade up.

McCree noticed how your arms were tied behind yours and the chairs' back while your legs had been tied together. They really didn't want you fighting back in any way.

He growled, baring a bit of teeth, as he stood his ground, "Doesn't matter what they know. They'll be leaving here alive, with or without me." His tone sounded serious and that made you look at him with wide eyes. You wanted to speak but at the same time you were so afraid to.

Another laugh was heard as the distant sound of footsteps were getting closer by the second. "Oh, that's rich." The third party member said, a hand reaching to his waist for his holstered gun.

Before McCree could threaten him to freeze the door behind him burst open, catching him off guard for just a second until he turned to point his gun at the intruders. Four men stood at the door, all of them with their guns drawn, and stared Jesse down. He swallowed thickly. He should've saw this coming. God, can he do anything right?!

When Jesse heard a click sound his body tensed and immediately turned around to face you. His blood ran cold at the sight of your head hung low, shoulders shaking, and a gun pressed against the back of your head. "Oh, good, I wouldn't want you to miss this." A voice spoke. He didn't care who was talking or what was going on, all he could think of was "Why not me?"

The moment you looked up at him, that same soft smile from the day you two met on your lips, is when he realized that this was goodbye.

One gun shot was heard, followed by multiple laughs and a click. Another shot rang out but all Jesse could focus on was your body. He didn't even notice that the men around him began to fall to a similar fate as yours. He dropped his gun, a sound clank resonating through the room, and he reached out to you - to cup your face in his hands as he fell to his knees.

Oh God.

His throat clenched at the blood that dripped down your face. Funny. It reminded him of when you socked him in the nose. He felt his body tremble with a sob that he wouldn't dare let out as he stared at your face. He never meant for this to happen. He never meant for you to get hurt. It should've been him. Please, god, it should've been him.

Jesse let out small hics as tears formed and fell down his face. He pressed his nose into your hair as his hands shakingly removed them from you, only to cling around your body instead.

He swears on his life that he'll avenge you and if it kills him, that's okay. If he dies then he'll be with you, and you can make him that drink you talked about.


End file.
